


you've left your ghost until tomorrow

by paperclipbitch



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Candy, Community: femslashagenda, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Mal Is Damaged And Eternally Pessimistic, Party, Pining, Post-Movie(s), Pumpkins, i am trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Mal says, “Halloween here seems to involve more candy and fewer knives.”</p><p>“That’s turning into a pattern here,” Evie points out.  “I think we can pretty much guarantee no one here will be trying to raise the dead either.”</p><p>“Well, that’s just lame,” Mal replies, “what kind of Halloween party doesn’t involve attempted necromancy and random dismembered body parts?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've left your ghost until tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> [Title from _Your Ghost_ by Tori Amos.] Written for the **Franken Femslash Fest** at **femslashagenda**.
> 
> So, this is set after the movie, and I've handwaved things like timelines and the Mal/Ben romance (but made them close friends because: bros), and someone had to be a bitch for my crack plot to work, so, sorry, Audrey, and my standard this-isn't-terribly-Disney disclaimer stands. In addition, Mal references a famous painting at one point and I've included a link; if you don't know the picture, and are squeamish, click with caution.
> 
> (I don't know how pop culture and Auradon could possibly work, so I decided to... handwave that too, tbh.)

“You guys have Halloween here?” Mal asks, sceptical. “How does that even work?”

Ben blinks, in that wide-eyed innocent way that Mal kind of loves and kind of wants to ruin, and says: “we have a big costume ball, and we watch scary movies, and people go trick-or-treating, and we bob for apples and carve pumpkins and tell ghost stories.”

Mal makes sure to put on her driest drawl. “Riiiiiiiiight.”

“Well,” Ben says, cheeks flushing, “okay, what was Halloween like on the island?”

“People died,” Mal says, flat. Ben blanches, mouth dropping open, and Mal would think about feeling guilty, but just because she’s decided to stick with the side of Good for now, doesn’t mean that she has to be _nice_. She holds out about thirty seconds before she bursts out laughing. “Oh my _god_ , your _face_. You’re too easy, I swear.”

Ben shoves at her shoulder, and Mal laughs harder, and she doesn’t tell him about the Halloweens she has known, because maybe people didn’t die, but they often wished that they had.

-

Evie’s humming behind her sewing machine, lost in that world she drifts off to when all she thinks about is thread and lace and frills. Mal sometimes still feels like that when she’s sketching, at least when she’s lucky.

“So,” Mal says, sprawled across her bed, boots still on, “Halloween here seems to involve more candy and fewer knives.”

“That’s turning into a pattern here,” Evie points out, winking when Mal sits up to look at her. “I think we can pretty much guarantee no one here will be trying to raise the dead either.”

“Well, that’s just lame,” Mal replies, “what kind of Halloween party doesn’t involve attempted necromancy and random dismembered body parts?”

Evie finishes her seam and pulls the fabric away from the machine; she holds it up to the light to see how it’s all draping, and is hidden behind it when she tells Mal: “I think I’m going to prefer the candy.”

“You’re letting this place make you soft,” Mal points out, but amused, no menace in it. A tone she didn’t even know she had until a few months ago.

Evie lets the material drop, a shimmery waterfall that slides easily through her fingers. Mal looks at it glittering, spilling in loops across the desk and onto the carpet, because it’s easier than looking at the way Evie smiles when she says: “I’m not the only one”.

-

“You just ask, and people give you candy!” Carlos’ eyes are lit up and he looks happier than Evie’s ever seen him. “Like, bucketfuls of candy!”

Mal is trying not to be a bitch here; at least, not as much of a bitch as she used to have to be to keep everyone else safe from their own wants and desires and how _that_ was all going to turn out, but she’s vaguely uncomfortable about how her family is happily embracing all the Halloween traditions of Auradon without thinking about the fact there have to be catches. Maybe not Isle of the Lost catches, which didn’t so much sting as maim, and sometimes that wasn’t even a metaphor, but a holiday that celebrates all that is dark and scary and evil? There’s no way that this isn’t going to have some kind of shitty undercurrent that’s going to catch up with them all. They’re still a little on probation; they’ll always still be a little on probation.

Mal isn’t saying this aloud, because she and Jay wordlessly agreed years ago that they’d keep an eye on Evie and Carlos and that little streak of naiveté that neither of them had quite managed to tamp out, and even Jay’s started telling her to lighten up these days, but she’s still pretty sure that the other shoe is going to drop, and it’s going to be bad.

“You get free candy anyway,” Mal tells Carlos instead, “and you don’t have to carry it around in a dorky pumpkin bucket.”

“It’s not dorky,” Carlos says.

“It’s pretty dorky,” Jay cuts in, from where he’s been lounging on his bed pretending to ignore them, and doing it terribly.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’ve got nothing to carry your free candy in,” Carlos shoots back.

Jay looks hilariously stricken, and Mal rolls her eyes. Sure, they’ve never really been children, couldn’t afford to be children with parents like theirs, in a city like theirs, but she’s still not sure how she feels about them all rediscovering their childhoods now.

“Just use your helmet, genius,” she says, and looks away from Jay’s grin.

-

“Don’t be afraid to make it really scary,” their art teacher tells them, and she resolutely isn’t looking toward the table where they’re all sitting. Mal arches an eyebrow, and Evie elbows her.

Their art classes this week are dedicated to pumpkin carving; all the students are making pumpkins with creepy faces and scenes on them to decorate the school. They’ve been provided with a variety of scoops and knives and tools, as well as paper and pens for planning. Evie’s scribbling stitches across her paper, looking like she’s about to try a Frankenstein face; when Mal looks toward Carlos, his plan is already taking on a canine expression, all fangs and streaks of fur. Jay, typically, is just pushing a knife into his pumpkin; he’s never been one for planning.

Mal hums a little, and starts her own sketch.

“What are you going to do, Mal?” Evie asks.

“I thought I’d copy [Saturn Devouring His Son](http://eeweems.com/goya/saturn_1000.jpg),” Mal replies easily.

Evie sighs. “ _Mal_.”

“What?”

Evie leans over to tug Mal’s pen out of her hand, where she’s been sketching the bared lines of her planned picture.

“Just cut in some triangle eyes and a jagged mouth and, I don’t know, some frowny eyebrows.”

“‘Frowny eyebrows’?” Mal echoes, laughing, but Evie’s expression doesn’t alter. “That’s not scary, Evie.”

“ _No_ ,” Evie says pointedly, “it _isn’t_.”

Mal’s the one who sighs this time, and takes her pen back. “Fine,” she says. “But if my lame boring pumpkin gets laughed at, I’m taking it out on you.”

Evie grins at her, battle won, and turns back to her own design.

-

“Knocking on strangers’ doors and asking for candy just sounds like a really good way to get horribly murdered,” Mal decides.

“I don’t think they think about things like that in Auradon,” Evie responds. She’s doing her science homework, and her hair is bundled up but falling in little loose skeins against her shoulders that Mal wants to twirl her fingers in.

Mal _knows_ that, but no matter how many times she’s told that, shown again and again that these kids have grown up with no need for fear, no need for most basic self-preservation techniques, it kind of makes her want to squish all of them under her boots, for getting to have that, for getting to have that and not even being grateful that they did. No need for lessons in anything but how to be happy, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow, every time.

“That’s because they have no imagination,” Mal responds, keeping her thoughts to herself, but she glances up and Evie’s expression is a little twisted, a little knowing.

“Well, that’s true,” she says, with that head toss Mal loves, and sometimes Mal thinks she’d do anything if she was promised that Evie would smile at the end of it all. Evie deserves all the things that Mal never will. “I hear there’s a costume competition,” Evie adds, “and I plan to win. No one here can make a better costume than I will.”

Mal considers this. “Let me guess, does Audrey win every single year?”

Evie nods. “ _Every_ year. I think she gets her costumes shipped from, like, Paris, which I’m pretty sure is against the rules, but I’m pretty sure cheating isn’t technically a thing here.”

“…remind me of that during finals,” Mal says, and: “I’ll totally help, I love a good revenge plan.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Evie says dryly, and Mal chucks a pillow at her.

-

“Everyone goes trick-or-treating around the dorms,” Ben is explaining, “and each dorm plans in advance whether they’ll give tricks or treats. There’s like a schedule, to make sure everyone has time to go.”

“We’re handing out tricks, right?” Jay says, and Carlos nods eagerly.

“Both of your dorms are handing out treats,” Ben says firmly.

“ _What_?” Mal demands. “I had some great ideas for tricks!”

“She does play the best pranks,” Jay agrees.

Ben spreads his hands and tries to look soothing, which will probably work really well for him when he’s an adult governing a kingdom full-time, but when he’s just a sixteen year old attempting to placate his friends, just kind of makes him look kind of douchey. Mal makes a mental note to tell him this at some point, with the worst timing possible.

“We want you to get to take part in your first Halloween here,” he says, “and I know you guys are great, but… well, it’s probably best if you’re nice to everybody this year.”

“Ugh,” Mal mutters. “It’s not like I would’ve made anyone’s hair fall out _permanently_ or anything.”

Carlos sniggers, and then tries to look sombre when Ben turns to look at him.

“Treats,” Jay says, “got it.”

“I’m not giving away my candy,” Carlos mutters, but low enough that he can maybe deny it if Ben calls him on it.

Maybe someone should tell Carlos that not all the Halloween candy in the school is actually specifically _for him_ ; but then again, maybe they shouldn’t.

Evie catches Mal’s eye before she bats her eyelashes and puts on her innocent expression; it’s never worked on Mal, but then it was never designed to. “Ben, what kind of things work as treats? I mean, something healthy might be nice too, right?”

Ben smiles, and Mal thinks: _ah, trapped_. “Sure,” he says, “that’s right, Evie.”

“I think we should hand out apples,” Evie says.

Ben’s horror-struck face is amazing, and Mal reflects that he really is just too _easy_. They don’t last long before Carlos busts out laughing, and Ben shakes his head.

“You four are going to give me grey hairs before I’m eighteen,” he says.

“That is our evil masterplan,” Mal agrees. “But Evie’ll show you how to angle your crown to hide them, she’s nice like that.”

“Ugh,” Evie says, “take that back, Mal, or I’m making you a blonde in your sleep.”

“Hey,” Carlos remarks, “remember that time we shaved Jay’s eyebrows off in his sleep? That was awesome.”

Jay scowls. “That was _not_ awesome.”

Ben is wearing the expression of bemusement he usually wears when hanging out with them. “Sometimes I have no idea why you guys all still like each other.”

“It’s all an elaborate revenge plot,” Mal says.

“We’re great at the long game,” Evie adds.

-

She should’ve seen this coming. Mal is mad at herself that she didn’t; she’s been brought up to spot all the angles, to know which ones could be trouble. This should’ve been obvious a mile off. But aside from the occasional dull sting as another pair of eyes cut across her and see what they think she is, but not all that she could be, this place hasn’t had a lot of danger in it, or a lot of cruelty, and Mal let herself grow soft, get caught up in parties and pranks and pumpkins, and not focus on what was going to go wrong.

It’s a well-known fact that eavesdroppers never hear anything good; but then that’s not what eavesdropping is for.

“I’ve nearly finished my Ursula costume,” one of Audrey’s lackeys is saying. “I’ve got the most amazing purple eyeshadow, you’ll just _die_.”

Mal’s supposed to be going to an art tutorial, but she slows, and presses her back to the row of lockers.

“Why would you want to come as Ursula anyway?” one of the other girls asks, “she’s a grey underwater bitch with no dress sense.”

Mal’s met Ursula on a number of occasions, and, well, she can agree with that assessment. 

“Well,” the first girl says, sounding huffy, “who are _you_ dressing as?”

“Mother Gothel,” the second girl says, like it should be obvious. “I mean, not when she was all old and hideous, but when she was young and hot, I’ve got this red dress, I’m going to look amazing.”

Mal’s heart is beating so hard that she almost can’t hear them talking anymore. Each thud in her chest just seems to be saying _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

“I was thinking of dressing as the Evil Queen again,” a third girl is musing, “I mean, the crown is pretty great, and she was hot back in the day, I’ve seen the photographs.”

Mal swallows and her throat burns with bile and she wasn’t even aware of her hands curling into fists but the nails are digging in, deep and hard and white like hatred.

“Who’re you dressing as, Audrey?” one of the girls asks.

Audrey scoffs. “Maleficent, of course,” she replies.

For a long moment, Mal thinks that she’s going to grab Audrey by the hair and beat her face into the lockers until one of them learns their lesson, but she takes a few burning breaths and forces herself to walk away on numb legs, vision too bright and too blurred.

In their room, Evie is sewing something and singing something pretty that they never played on the radio on the Island. 

“I’m making a corpse bride costume,” she tells Mal happily. “It’s going to be so pretty and creepy, whatever Audrey’s planning, she can’t top this.”

She looks so bright and confident and _delighted_ and Mal hates it, Mal hates how easily Evie can just sit there and fit in here, like she tailored herself a new personality and world view like she tailors herself new dresses. Maybe Evie can cope here in ways that Mal never can, and then she thinks about how Evie’s glowing face will look when she realises that girls have come to the Halloween ball dressed as her _mother_.

“Oh, _Evie_ ,” she says, and her voice doesn’t even sound like hers anymore, “just give it _up_ , for god’s sake.”

Evie’s mouth thins; she tilts her head, eyes going brittle. “Mal?” she says, and her voice is sharp, wary; Evie was never as cruel as Mal, but she has just as many jagged bright edges, and can call them up at a moment’s notice. 

“You won’t win,” Mal snaps. “You can’t win. This isn’t decided by a Magic Mirror, no one gives a fuck if you’re pretty or not, all that they care about is that you’re the daughter of someone they hate, and they’ll never get over it, and you’re naïve for pretending that they will.”

“You’ve been determined to hate everything about Auradon since we got here,” Evie snaps back. “You _chose_ to stay here, Mal!”

“Yeah,” Mal says, “I did, but I didn’t choose to become one of them. I’m not pandering to them.”

“If you wanted to stay a standoffish bitch you should’ve just gone back to the island,” Evie snaps, and her eyes are bright, and Mal thinks this started off as an intent to protect Evie from herself, from everyone else, but it’s spiralled, and she doesn’t know what this is now.

Mal thought she was going to storm off at this point, but Evie’s the one who leaves, slamming the door behind her, and maybe one of these days they were going to develop better coping mechanisms, but they haven’t yet.

-

It’s Ben who comes to see Mal maybe half an hour later, when she’s curled in a heap on her bed resolutely not crying, alternately burning with anger and hatred and loneliness. Her bed has a bunch of pillows on it that she’s pretty sure don’t actually belong to her, and all of them smell like Evie.

“So, I was with Carlos and Jay,” he says conversationally, “when Evie burst in and threw herself on Jay’s bed and cried and called you a bunch of names, some of which I’d never heard before.”

“Well,” Mal replies, “that’s because you live in the real-world equivalent of a PG movie.”

Ben huffs a laugh, and sits on the end of the bed. Mal wants to kick him off, but doesn’t. She’s not completely sure that she can actually move right now.

“Carlos and Jay are looking after Evie,” Ben continues. “Well, Jay’s being ineffective and doing a lot of hand-flapping, and Carlos has discovered candy apples and has basically glued his teeth together with sugar, so he’s trying to make soothing noises but it isn’t really working, but I figure that she’s used to that.”

“So you drew the short straw?” Mal asks. “What, we made out a couple of times and now you feel like you have to be nice to me?”

“Clearly that’s not your policy,” Ben says dryly. 

Mal burrows her face into her blankets a little more. “Go _away_ , Ben,” she mutters.

Ben doesn’t move. She wasn’t really expecting him to. He’s stubborn, and too nice for his own good, and she doesn’t know if she can tell a king to fuck off. She might try in a minute anyway.

“Evie said something about Halloween costumes,” he says, after a couple of minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Mal says. “Funny how you missed out the part where everyone in Auradon just, you know, dresses like the villains they exiled.”

Ben exhales slowly. “It’s… it’s going to take time,” he says. “That’s not an excuse, and it’s not an apology, but people’s minds won’t change overnight. It’ll get better, Mal, but… not soon.”

Mal sighs, and she’s still angry, but mostly she’s just tired. So, so tired. She sits up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. “Who did you used to dress up as?” she asks.

Ben flushes, but he answers: “Captain Hook,” without hesitation. Mal likes that he’s willing to own up to his mistakes; monarchs should do that. She never will, but hey, that wasn’t how she was raised.

“You’d laugh if you could see him now,” Mal tells him.

“Would I?”

“No,” she says, and it spills out as a sigh. She scrubs a hand over her face, and thinks about how in a lot of ways it was so much easier to be mean than it is to be kind. “I should go and talk to Evie.”

Ben catches her wrist. “Halloween costumes don’t have to be evil or scary, Mal,” he says quietly. “Sometimes it’s just about dressing as someone else for a night.”

Mal gets the feeling he’s trying to tell her something, and maybe later, she’ll even be able to work out what it is.

-

Carlos and Jay clear out pretty quick once Mal shows up, Carlos still sticky and covered in bits of red candy – “wish we’d found out about candy apples years ago,” Jay says, “think about how much peace and quiet we could’ve gotten” – and now Mal’s left to see if she’s got anything to say for herself. She’s always been good at hitting buttons, snapping someone apart with words; apologies don’t come naturally to her. 

Evie’s stopped crying and has fixed her make-up; people think that Evie’s shallow, and sometimes she can be, but her appearance is her armour and more than a few people have been shipwrecked up against it, Mal included.

“So,” Mal says, “I was the worst.”

Evie arches a perfectly-plucked eyebrow, and waits.

Mal sighs, and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Something upset me,” she tells Evie, “and I took it out on you, and I know it’s not the first time I’ve done that, but I’m supposed to be a better person who doesn’t do shit like that anymore.”

“Nice to know that that’s working out for you,” Evie snips, cool.

Mal sits down on the edge of Jay’s bed. “They’re dressing as Ursula,” she says quietly, “and Hook, and Mother Gothel, and Doctor Facilier and the Queen of Hearts. They’re dressing as our _parents_ , Evie.”

Evie ducks her head for a moment; when she raises it again, she’s wearing a ragged smile that’s all blades, one Mal hasn’t seen on her for months.

“Guess we should have thought of that,” she says dully.

“I’m sorry,” Mal says, and it slips out much more easily than she expected it to. “I’m sorry that it doesn’t get easier here and I’m sorry that their stupid competition is biased against you and I’m sorry that I was shitty to you.”

Evie’s smile curls at the edges and suddenly the hardness is gone, she’s back to being herself, sweet and bright and everything that she deserves to be all the time, if only the world will let her.

“Oh, Mal,” she sighs, “come here.”

Mal lets Evie hug her first, but she sinks into it easily enough, burying her face in Evie’s curls and breathing until she stops feeling like she’s going to suffocate, like she’s going to break apart with anger and fire, like a pot in a kiln with the smallest bubble of air trapped deep down. 

“I’m going to win anyway,” Evie says after a while, the words spilling into Mal’s hair.

“Of course,” Mal says. “You don’t even have to have an evil scary costume; Ben says it’s just about dressing up. You can just be, you know, a super hot princess.”

“I’m already a super hot princess,” Evie counters.

Mal laughs, and tells herself she’ll move in a few moments, but not before Evie does. “Well then,” she says, “maybe you’ve already won.”

-

“You said to make treats!” Mal says, and opens her eyes all wide and blameless. “Treats are things that people like!”

Ben is poking through the basket she and Evie placed by their bedroom door, expression full of amused horror. “These are all _exam answers_ ,” he says. “You can’t hand out exam answers!”

“They’d make _me_ happy,” Evie says, from where she’s over by the mirror applying false eyelashes. “And you vetoed my apple idea.”

“You know why I vetoed your apple idea,” Ben replies. “You can’t give these to people, guys.”

“You should probably get over to the boys’ room,” Mal tells him. “They’re handing out forged report cards for people to send home.”

Ben rubs a hand over his face. “ _Why are you all like this_ ,” he groans, and takes off at a run.

“We’ve got this trick-or-treating thing down,” Evie says cheerfully, and spins to face Mal. “How do I look?”

Her false eyelashes are dripping with little false cobwebs and glitter, and her hair is a dramatic mass of curls and spider-shaped pins. It’s nowhere near as dramatic as her costume for the ball will be later this week, but it’s pretty amazing. Mal’s in jeans and a shirt, but she managed to conjure up some realistic-looking blood to smear her clothes, hands and face with; it’s not Halloween or a normal day if she’s not making people uncomfortable.

“Beautiful,” she replies, honest, and Evie grins and goes to pull out the candy they were keeping as their back-up plan.

-

It’s two days before the Halloween ball when Audrey’s loudly boasting about her Halloween costume while pretending it’s all a big mystery and shooting pointed looks in Mal’s direction, that something in Mal’s head goes _click_.

“I know you’ve made an amazing ballgown for me,” she says mildly, “but do you mind if I don’t wear it?” Evie turns to look at her, and something in Mal’s expression must be glittering, because she grins.

“How evil are you planning to be?” she asks.

“Very,” Mal replies.

“Awesome,” Evie says, “count me in.”

-

Evie looks beautiful, even dressed up as a corpse bride; she was born for ruffled dresses and gowns and everything that shows off her beauty. She’s wearing a tiara and a tattered veil, and all they seem to do is make her hair colour look richer, her skin brighter. She looks so beautiful that Mal wants to touch her, but she know she’d ruin Evie’s make-up if she did, and anyway, she’s used to restraining herself by now.

Mal, by contrast, barely looks like herself right now. Evie’s sewing skills and Mal’s magic book have constructed her costume in a surprisingly short amount of time, and she’s very pleased with it. It’s possible that they’re the only people who’ll be pleased with it, but that’s kind of the point.

“Tiara time,” Evie trills, and Mal bows her head so that Evie can set the tiara in her hair; it’s heavier than she was expecting it to be, and for a moment she thinks that this is a terrible idea, but she’s going to do it anyway. That’s always been her mantra.

Most of the school has already assembled in the ballroom – and seriously, Mal should’ve realised what they were in for when they got here; no one else’s schools have _ballrooms_ – so the halls are quiet. Mal’s gown keeps tangling around her legs, but Evie is gliding along beside her, comfortable in her heels and artfully ragged wedding dress.

“Whatever happens tonight, you look lovely,” Mal tells her. “Just in case, you know, I’ve gone too far and they chase us out of the school with pitchforks and flaming torches.”

Evie reaches for her hand, laces their fingers. “You’ve got such an overactive imagination, Mal.”

“I think you’re putting too much trust in them,” Mal replies.

Evie shrugs. “I just don’t think they can get hold of pitchforks at such short notice,” she responds. 

-

Mal lets Evie go into the ballroom ahead of her, to join Carlos and Jay, before she makes her own entrance. She walks to the top of the steps where she’s clearly visible, and strikes a pose, and waits.

It doesn’t take long; Mal hears the whispers breaking out across the room, even with the music, and she can see where Audrey and her Maleficent costume are paying court in the corner – it’s not even a _good_ costume, her mom wouldn’t be seen dead in that – and she fixes her eyes on her and counts.

She makes it to twenty before someone makes it to Audrey, and the other girl turns around. Even under the pale-tinged make-up, Mal can see when Audrey flushes with rage, knotting her hands in her black sparkly dress and stomping across the room.

“Take it off!” she shrieks when she gets closer to Mal, “you can’t wear that.”

Mal takes a step down. “Sorry,” she says, “I thought Halloween was a day when we all dressed as each other’s moms.”

Audrey’s eyes narrow. “ _You can’t wear that_ ,” she repeats, and she’s stomping up the stairs now, skirt raised to reveal high-heeled black boots that, actually, Mal’s mom would probably like.

Mal’s hair is longer and no longer purple, and she’s wearing a long pink gown and a beautiful golden tiara. She doesn’t make a bad Princess Aurora, even if she does say so herself.

“Take it off!” Audrey demands as she gets closer, reaching out to snatch the tiara off Mal’s hair, but she’s an amateur, and Mal ducks out of the way easily.

“It’s a costume,” she says, aware of the eyes of the whole room on them. “I’m allowed to wear a costume on Halloween.”

“Not that one,” Audrey snaps, and lunges for her dress this time. Mal evades her again, because once you’ve learned the basics of surviving a knife fight on the streets of the island, no one will ever be able to touch you. 

“People are dressed as different princesses tonight,” Mal tells her easily, speaking so it’ll carry through the ballroom. “I can count three Belles from here.”

“You can’t dress as my mother!” Audrey snarls, and her eyes are bright, and Mal thinks that she might be about to cry. Mal’s fine with that; she’s trying to be less of a bitch, mostly, but if Audrey can feel the way she felt, just for a moment, then she’ll have gotten exactly what she wanted.

“You’re dressed as mine,” Mal replies, clipping every word sharp and clear. “My mom wanted to kill yours, yes, but you’re still dressed as her. In fact, until a minute ago, you thought it was funny.”

The Fairy Godmother is hurrying up the steps toward them, and Mal wonders briefly if this is it, if this is when she gets sent back to the island in disgrace, still wearing this damning pink dress. She stands her ground anyway.

“Look at what she’s wearing!” Audrey appeals, tears finally spilling over. “She’s dressed as my _mother_!”

“She’s dressed as mine,” Mal repeats stubbornly, and maybe she isn’t crying, but her voice is still shot through with more hurt than she meant to let out. 

The Fairy Godmother looks between the two of them, and her expression is difficult to read. In the end, she sighs, and shakes her head. “Both of you, go and change,” she says quietly. Then she sweeps her long black costume cloak around her and walks back down the stairs again.

It took hours and hours of effort, and Mal thought her victory might feel sweeter than this. But she’s glad her point has been proven; not just for herself, but for her family, too. She takes one last look at the ballroom, shocked quiet, and sees a few people dressed as villains sneaking toward the exits.

It looks like she’ll get to wear that dress Evie made for her after all.

-

Evie finds her, carrying a skull-shaped goblet filled with punch. It’s not been spiked, because no one in Auradon knows how to have fun, but Mal sips it and it’s not bad anyway.

“Thank you,” Evie says quietly.

Mal shrugs a shoulder, suddenly feeling more exposed in her witch-inspired ballgown than she did in her Aurora costume.

“Someone had to take a stand for all of us,” she says, “and it’s usually me.”

Evie reaches over, and deftly relieves Mal of her half-empty goblet. “You should dance with me,” she says, and it’s an abrupt change of direction, but Mal can handle that.

“…okay,” she says, and allows Evie to pull her toward the dancefloor.

They dance to the music, taking a moment to find their rhythm, and no one’s staring at them now that Mal’s hair is purple again, her dress is something they’d expect. Maybe they’re avoiding her gaze too because they’re a little ashamed, and that’s okay with her, too.

“Your mom gave you lessons in manipulating people,” Evie says quietly.

Mal lets her head tip forward onto Evie’s shoulder, pressing her face into the lace and silk she finds there. “I don’t want to talk about her tonight,” she mumbles.

“I don’t either,” Evie replies. “But hear me out. She taught you to manipulate people, but she didn’t teach you to read them. My mom did.”

Mal gets the feeling she’s not going to like this; she raises her head anyway.

“So, thank you,” Evie says. “Because I know you like to pretend you’re a lone crazed wolf, but I know you, and I know people, and I know when you’re doing things just for me.”

It’s just as well that the lighting in here is so bad that Evie won’t be able to tell that Mal’s blushing; she probably can anyway, though. She opens her mouth, and no sound comes out.

Evie grins, suddenly, bright and perfect and the one that Mal’s always wanted to cup her hands around and keep, because a smile like that needs protecting. She glances upwards, then at Mal. “So, are you gonna kiss me, or what?”

Mal looks up too. “I don’t think cobwebs work like mistletoe.”

Evie rolls her eyes, “C’mon Mal, I know you’re you, but we’re having a moment here.”

“Were we?” Mal teases, and laughs until Evie kisses her. After that, her mouth’s too busy.

-

“Halloween is my favourite,” Carlos says the next morning, sprawled on the rug in their room counting through a haul of candy. Mal frankly has no idea where most of this came from, because most of it doesn’t match the brands kids at the school have been handing out, but she decides not to ask. It’s probably something to do with Jay, and it’s easier not to get the details.

“That eyeliner Evie put on me won’t come off,” Jay complains, and yeah, he does look kind of like a panda. His vampire last night looked awesome, but this morning he just looks tired and smudgy.

“Pretty sure you can pull off the bad-boy creature of the night thing,” Evie assures him. She’s leaning into Mal, their fingers entwined, and it’s new and yet not new at all; strange and scary and comforting and familiar all at once. Mal is out of her depth here, but she kind of loves it.

Ben snorts. “I think you guys have caused enough problems this week without Jay dressing like a vampire all the time.”

“You told me to dress like that,” Mal points out, “it just took me a while to put the pieces together.”

Ben raises his hands. “I’m taking responsibility for nothing.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Mal says, grinning, throwing one of Evie’s pillows at him.

“When do we get to dress up next?” Evie asks and while Mal would really like it if there weren’t any stressful public holidays for a good long time now, she’d be okay with them having one every week if it meant Evie got to wear a gown and look happy. She keeps the thought to herself for now; she’s determined to be something resembling a _good_ girlfriend, since being the _perfect_ one is going to be way beyond her, but she refuses to be _soppy_.

Ben looks thoughtful. “Not until Christmas,” he says. “Thanksgiving is more about food.”

Carlos’ eyes light up. “That sounds like my kind of holiday,” he says, “tell us more.”

Ben frowns. “You guys didn’t have Thanksgiving either?”

“Yeah, there was loads to be grateful for when we were living on a shitty island with only dial-up and periodic corpses to keep us company,” Mal says briskly. “Talk about the food.”

She had a few things about life there that she didn’t hate, though; she squeezes Evie’s hand, and Evie leans a little more into her, and squeezes back.


End file.
